Never Second to Anything
by Avoline Malfoy
Summary: "Because she was your twin, and you couldn't stand the thought of her hating you," he snapped, his voice dripping with venom. "Yet you two functioning morons couldn't even make it clear that nothing would come before her! We all three failed her, and all you idiots can do is get drunk!" RATED M FOR LANGUAGE, Crowley/OC


_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

* * *

 _And I'm not done with Crowley yet!_

 _I'm not going to hurt him as badly this time. Yes, he will hurt, but I'm not totally going to destroy him._

 _So, without further ado, sit back and enjoy._

 _Love always,_

 _Avoline_

* * *

Crowley knocked on the bunker door, irritated that, while allowed in, the boys had warded the place so he couldn't just pop in when he pleased. Did they really think that would stop him from coming to see Sarah? Sure, they didn't like the idea of him dating their sister, especially Sam. And Crowley had to admit, if someone had told him two years ago that he would fall in love with Sam Winchester's twin sister, he would have sicked Juliet on them.

But here he was, waiting at the door of the bunker, a small box in one hand, and her favorite brand of wine in the other.

The door opened, and Dean's face greeted him.

"If you're looking for Sarah, she isn't here," he began. "And no, we don't know where she's at." The demon's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What do you mean you don't know where she's at," he demanded. The blond stepped aside, silently inviting the King of Hell in.

"I mean just that," he answered, following Crowley to the library. Crowley's confusion deepened at the sight of Sam drinking from a bottle of whiskey, drunk enough to put all of Scotland to shame. "We woke up, she was gone. Left nothing but three letters on the table and her hair brush." Dean sat next to Sam and sighed. "She didn't tell us where she was going or how. And kept babbling some bullshit about being place second to everything else."

Crowley heart sank before he even picked up the envelope. He knew, just from those words, why she took flight so suddenly. And he silently berated himself for allowing it to happen, as well as cursed the two men for making her feel that way. He fought the tears back, refusing to seem weak in front of the two most feared hunters on the planet.

"Give me that," he mumbled, tearing the letter open and reading the words he knew would break his heart.

 _Dear Crowley,_

 _I know you love me, in your own way, but I have to wonder if you love the throne of Hell more. I could never let you see the pain, cause I knew it wouldn't change anything. You would still do whatever it took to keep the throne. You fought tooth and nail and all the forces of Hell to take that throne, and I won't stand in the way any longer._

 _It hurts, Crowley. Knowing that I will never be enough, knowing that being King will always be more important, knowing that, no matter what, I will simply be a passing fling meant only to entertain you until you become bored with me. And it hurts writing this letter, cause I love you so much. But I can't continue to be second to anything. Not the throne, not the hunt, and not my own selfish desire to make you love me. It's slowly killing me._

 _So I'm leaving, before I become so overwhelmed that I do something stupid. I want to feel alive, and I want to feel like more than the woman who's always in the way. I wish I could forget, but that would mean living a lie, and I've done that long enough._

 _I'll always love you. Don't ever forget that._

 _Please, let me go._

 _Sarah_

There was no hiding the pain he felt. He was confident that she tried to be gentle, but saying goodbye was never easy. And tracking her was impossible, especially because he had begged her to get a anti-demon tracking tattoo. How could he have been so cruel and careless.

"She loved you," Sam blurted, his speech slurred. Damn moose was drunk. "She cried every time you left to deal with some shit in Hell. Then she would beg me and Dean not to gank you. Why I ever listened, I don't know." The demon glared at the taller man.

"Because she was your twin, and you couldn't stand the thought of her hating you," he snapped, his voice dripping with venom. "Yet you two functioning morons couldn't even make it clear that nothing would come before her! We all three failed her, and all you idiots can do is get drunk! She left her fucking hair brush, and a letter-" He stopped, realizing hitting him.

"What," Dean growled.

"She left her hair brush," the Scotsman whispered. "She left her hair brush. She knows I know the spell, so she left her hair brush. She wants to see if we are willing to do whatever it takes. How could I have been such a fool?" He dropped the paper, racing to her room and snatching up the pink plastic. "I can track her down. I can find her. I can try and convince her to come home." He ran back into the library, shifting his gaze to the confused brothers. "I need a few more ingredients to perform the spell." Dean nodded and ran to the storage room to get them.

With a speed that would have impressed his mother, Crowley had the spell set up, the words leaving his mouth with ease. The map ignited, burning all but one small dot.

"So she's there," Sam inquired. The shorter man nodded.

"There's a Greyhound stop there," he explained. "The bus hasn't come yet. She's still waiting." He turned, striding to the door.

"What if she still wants to leave," Dean called.

"Then I'll wipe us from her life," Crowley answered. "I'll let her go, cause that will be what she wants." He turned back, leveling them with a stare that meant business. "And that means you will have to do the same. She's a grown woman. We can't force her to do anything."

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

Finding her was easy enough. Despite being Sam's twin, she was the spit and image of Mary Winchester, blond hair and all. He felt a small spark of joy at seeing her face, as well as noticing she still wore the small diamond necklace he had given her.

But now came the hard part. He had to convince her to come home, and that nothing, not tormenting souls or the throne of hell, would ever come before her.

He snapped his fingers, and everything around them stopped.

Her head snapped up, and he smirked. She was always more aware of what was going on around her than Sam and Dean, and he knew she would sense he was near. She would be surprised, probably angry, that he had tracked her down, but he had to try. He had to fight for her, and if he was successful, he would never take her for granted again. His smirk fell as her eyes landed on him.

"I told you to let me go," she began, rising to her feet, her hands balled into fists at her side. "I told you all to let me go!" He stepped closer, holding his hands out to show that he meant no harm.

"I know, love," he responded. "I know. But I couldn't, not without at least trying." She didn't move, and he took that as his cue to continue. "I never meant to make you think that you were ever in the way. I never meant to hurt you. Neither did Sam and Dean. And I'm sorry, Sarah, I'm so sorry." The tears returned, and he was powerless to stop them this time. "You are so much more than just a woman to me. And you were never just a form of entertainment. You are the reason I spend so little time in Hell. You are the reason I've been talking to Sam about finishing my curing. I would willingly give up everything for you. The throne, the power, all of it." He swallowed as a stray drop slid down his face. "And if you still want to leave, I'll wipe all three of us from your life. You never have to worry about us coming to find you. It's up to you, love."

Her stunned stare followed his words. He prayed, for the first time in ages. He prayed that his words were enough, that she would come home to him, even if it came with conditions. He just wanted her back in his arms, and he wanted her to stay there.

"I'll walk away from the crown, I'll devote every moment to making you feel like the luckiest woman alive, I'll embrace humanity in it's entirety," he pleaded. "Just come home. Give us a chance." She blinked at his words.

"You'd give up the throne of Hell for me," she murmured. He nodded.

"If that's what you want," he replied. "I just want you to be happy." She took a deep breath, and he held his.

"I'll come home," she stated. "Walk away from the throne, let Sam cure you, and never make me worry about loosing you. I'll deal with my brothers when we get there." A relieved sigh passed his lips, and he reached for her hand.

"There's one more thing, my love," he continued, reaching into his pocket and grasping the small box concealed there. "I had arrived at the bunker with every intention of doing this in front of your brothers, cause it would drive them nuts knowing that they had no control over your answer." He dropped to one knee, his eyes locked on hers, still holding her hand. "You can get angry for me lying to you later. But know that some of those trips to Hell were actually times I was searching for this." He pulled the box out, flipping the lid open to reveal the ruby and sapphire ring within. "Sarah, I love you, more than anything. And I've been shit at showing you just how much. Being with me, it isn't easy, and I know it. But I promise, I will be a better man to you. Starting now. Will you marry me, and make me the luckiest son of a bitch in the world?"

She barked out a laugh, one he knew to be her I-have-no-clue-how-else-to-react laugh, and managed a smile.

"Yes," she answered. "Yes, you crazy, stupid, son of a witch." He laughed as he stood, pulling her close and kissing her.

Life had just gotten better than ever.


End file.
